Heroic Build
by ReconstructWriter
Summary: Didn't superpowers automatically come with a six pack, a barrel chest and bulging biceps?
1. Chapter 1

**Sore**

"This sucks," Danny grumbled, his body hanging off Sam's bed like a broken doll.

"You need to stretch." Sam jammed a finger in his shoulder, eliciting a hiss, "if you think you're sore now tomorrow will be hell. Stretch a little and you won't be so sore."

"Yeah right," Danny clutched his shoulder where muscle tissue had turned into pure nerve tissue. "This is worse than running the mile, a hundred times worse. Who knew a Lunch Lady could pack such a punch."

"Come on man, you know Sam's usually right about health stuff—even if she's dead wrong about the diet."

Sam rolled her eyes, "Up and at 'em." She prodded him again but Danny refused to be moved. Better to take pokes of pain than full-body torture. "Tucker help me lift him up."

"I've got a better idea." Had Danny been a little more conscious of something besides agony he would have heard the wicked grin in Tucker's voice.

Danny yelped as Tucker shoved ice cubes down his shirt, flopping off the bed. "That's better, now on the floor and stretch. Time to WD-40 those squeaky joints old man."

Going intangible, Danny let the ice cubes fall to the carpet and glared at both his friends, "it's like you two exist to make my life miserable."

"Perks of friendship dude," Tucker said.

"I'll start off easy," added Sam, "We can do a little yoga."

"Nothing girly…ow! Still sore!"

"Designations of an activity based on gender are archaic and stupid and confine girls and especially boys to a very narrow range of experiences, now take deep breaths and relax."

"Agh, not fair," grumbled Danny, "There's never been a superhero in a comic book or on television or anywhere else who got sore muscles."

"Welcome to reality," Sam said dryly.

"Yeah, where apparently that ectoplasmic shock didn't leave you with any muscle. You'd think if a radioactive spider could do it…" Tucker trailed off in thought.

Danny scowled at his arms, which had no reason to burn like the sun when they were as stubbornly stick thin as before the accident. Sam paused from lotus position and adjusted his hands, "Breathe deeply as you do this Danny; gaining muscle actually takes work."

"And protein," said Tucker, "Which is why Sam will be forever a bean pole."

"If it only took protein you'd be as beefy as those helpless, slaughtered animals you devour," Sam pointed out. "Now let's move onto downward dog."

Danny groaned. Every inch of his body felt as agonizing as a side-stitch after last year's final exam, only all over his body and each movement made a thousand supernova-hot needles known in his joints. Doing any sort of bending exercise felt like hellish torture right now.

"Okay maybe cat pose."

"Ow!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Loss**

"A bathroom scale isn't going to solve anything—not that there's anything to be solved, I'm fine! Just a little tired."

"Danny you nearly fainted in the middle of a fight and if you'd staggered left instead of right Tucker would need to stitch your head back on," Sam hissed, shoving him into the Fenton's bathroom.

"Hate to say it dude but you are looking a little thin. You need more meat on them bones. Nasty Burger Mighty Meaty Melt?" Tucker held out the remains of his sandwich.

"Thanks, but no thanks for the spit exchange."

"He's had five of those," Sam shoved Tucker's arm aside. "Now on the scale. How much do you usually weigh?"

"Sam, you'll offend my sensibilities," Danny joked. "Fine, one hundred and twelve pounds okay. I've always been a bean-pole." He stepped on the scale. "Ninety-six? Crap! When did that happen?"

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and blame ghost fighting. You seriously need to gain some weight and a vegan diet won't do the job," Tucker smirked at Sam.

"But? How did that happen?"

"Tucker's right—and if you quote me on that the whole school will see that picture of you two sleeping together—all that ghost fighting has to burn a lot of energy. Who knows, maybe your ghostly powers are fueled by calories. Either way, you're burning more than you eat—"

"I already eat twice as much as you guys put together," Danny complained.

"Don't whine about being able to do what even Paulina dreams of doing. Now let's head over to the Nasty Burger and buy you five of their best heart attacks on a plate, and then the Dairy King." Sam jerked him down the stairs. "You know if you gained a little more weight I wouldn't be able to pull you around like this. You're lighter than me."

"Shorter too," Tucker said.

"Hey!"

"Here's just what you need—the Nasty Burger advertised it's Seven by Seven: seven layers of meat, seven layers of cheese for seven layers of pure heaven." Tucker typed something into his PDA, "Ah, and for the Dairy King, you definitely want their Hot Fudge Sundae Cheesecake Snowstorm."


	3. Chapter 3

**Gain**

"Glaring at your arm isn't going to bulk it up," Tucker pointed out.

Danny sighed, dropping his arm, "I know, it just sucks." He walked to the weights and traded his lighter dumbbells for a heavier set. Not the heaviest set…several regulars had taken the gym's largest weights. "You'd think after all the ghost fighting and all the good protein I eat there'd be just a little more arm here." Speaking of which he put down the dumbbells after another set and took out a protein bar; his appetite was better controlled, but Danny just got out of detention for eating in class. Again.

"Life sucks and gives you crap. I don't have two pack abs let alone six pack abs and I've been running around nearly as much as you lately."

"On a scooter," Sam pointed out, "Anyway we're fourteen, muscle bulk is probably seven years away for you guys."

"Dash is fourteen and he's," Danny gestured widely, "—three of me. In all directions."

"Which is unusual and mostly due to genetics and an early growth spurt," Sam said. "Besides didn't he finally teach you how to work out properly? At least after bitching about being shrunk and choking down a few crow pies. Exercise and eating right gives you growth."

"No way does eating grass equal that," Tucker pointed to one of the men exercising on the bench press. His bicep alone was thicker than Danny's body.

"It does on cows."

"Which makes me feel so much better. It's been months since I started fighting ghosts, I've been gaining weight and exercising right and I can still barely see the difference between my bicep and my shoulder. You'd think I'd be half my dad's size at least."

"Actually it would probably take close to a year for you to bulk up if that is your goal," said Maddie Fenton, "And that's with special diet and the exercise."

"Mom? Hi…uh…what are you doing here and how much of that did you hear?" Danny squeaked, voice about three octaves higher than usual.

"Enough to say you shouldn't be worried about gaining weight any more than Sam should be about losing it. Let your body develop on its own time sweetie, it might surprise you." She ruffled his hair.

He brushed her hand off, "Not unless I wake up with a six pack tomorrow."

"Chin up, I've got a membership here and believe me, it's given results." Danny was a little depressed to see even his mom had bigger arms than his. That his arms didn't burn anymore from exercise couldn't cheer him up. "When you're done actually lifting those weights with your arms instead of your eyes I know some moves that will work against someone three times your size."

"Really! Then let's do this," Danny leapt toward the mat his mother stood on.

"Just remember martial arts can inflict a lot of damage on a person. You can break a person's arm and ruin their life, with this skill comes the responsibility to use it wisely. Do you understand," Maddie stared sternly at her son.

The excited smile slid from his face, "I think I'm beginning to."

She gave him a wide smile. "Excellent, then let's get started."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hide**

Danny took silent, shallow breaths to stifle any sound while his whole hand turned white clenching the closet doorknob. Tucker would freak if Danny made a sound now and freaking plus sharp objects led to more patch-up jobs. But every stab of Tucker's needle was a fresh spear of hellish agony through torn flesh and this time Danny didn't have a drop of alcohol to make it easier. Focus on breaths; don't freak anyone out; especially not the person wielding the pointy object.

Outside the dim, cramped room students milled through bright halls, chattering about their weekends or bitching about upcoming assignments. Danny did his best to concentrate on those scraps of normalcy, on anything except his best friend jabbing holes through his skin to sew the gash up.

Beneath the room's only flickering light bulb Tucker's complexion shifted between stark white and an unhealthy shade of green as Danny's blood poured down his side and onto trembling hands. "Damn, never thought I'd be using my skills for this," he whispered quietly.

"Keep it down," Sam said, even more softly. She sat on a cardboard box of toilet paper, a cardboard corner digging into her back, dabbing away the worst of the blood from Danny and Tucker.

"Okay, that's good," Tucker whispered and tied the stitches off. He yanked his bloody hands away, scrubbing them raw with all the baby-wipes the supply closet had, hissing: "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."

"Still better than a hospital?" Danny asked, smirking.

"Rock and hard place man, rock and hard place," Tucker managed. "But what are friends for?" The smile on his face was a sick, brittle thing.

"Thanks guys. Heh, at least I dodged that first strike, otherwise you'd be sewing my head back on."

Tucker whole body twitched like his skin wasn't attached properly, throat bobbing with nausea, "Ah, all the puns we could've made," he managed.

"Be a little serious," Sam hissed before rounding on Danny. "Damnit Danny, you nearly died. You can't—you've got to get better at this. Stronger. Faster. I'm not losing either of you!"

"Of course not, but we didn't die," said Danny.

"Yeah, you're stuck with us," Tucker added.

"We can invite mom over for an extra martial arts session this afternoon," said Danny. "I'll practice katas until I drop but we can only get better so fast."

"We could practice some katas in gym class," Tucker offered.

"No, can't do that and keep up the façade of being wimps."

"That façade took an ass-kicking when you led the student body against a bunch of ghost pirates Danny. Besides, your secret identity shouldn't get in the way of the self-improvement you need to survive," Sam pointed out.

"But without that façade people might connect the dots between me and 'that mayor-kidnapping inviso-bill ghost.' Shittiest name ever."

"Fine, but if you want to continue with the wimpy loser façade you're going to have to wear this all the time," Sam handed over the red hoodie.

"Why?" Danny asked softly.

Sam prodded his side gently, "Those are gonna add up."

"Yeah, and people are gonna wonder just what Danny Fenton does with his spare time," Tucker quoted.

"What spare time," Danny said, staring at his chest and arms for a moment. How odd that in the middle of all the fighting and nearly dying that he had finally gotten his wish, or a start anyway.

Only to have to hide it.

He didn't bitch about the unfairness of it all while cautiously slipping the hoodie over his head, trying not to aggravate Tucker's careful work. All three of them were still alive, despite Sam's fear. There was nothing to bitch about. His friends clutched his shoulders and Danny turned all three of them invisible and intangible before sneaking back to Mr. Lancer's class.


	5. Chapter 5

**Scars**

Tucker and Danny pretended to be completely absorbed untying their shoes, taking off their socks, digging gym clothes out of their bags—anything to avoid changing in front of the jocks. They weren't the only participants of this ancient ritual. Maybe a dozen or so physically awkward teens sat on the locker room benches, dragging out the switch from ordinary student to gym target. Everyone waited for Dash and the others to leave before exposing bodies damned by the puberty gods.

As the last jock left, everyone relaxed and stripped off their regular clothes and into gym clothes. Everyone except Tucker and Danny who took their time sliding zippers, fumbling with buttons and pulling belts out in slow, awkward motions. Other teens walked to class without a glance at the pair; this too has become familiar enough that no one bothered with strange looks.

"Finally," grumbled Tucker and with one hand tried slipping his shirt off both shoulders.

"I'll deal with that," said Danny, turning the shirt intangible. He did the same with his own, feeling a deep, dull stab of pain in his chest as he moved.

"What are you gonna do dude? Gym will fuck you up." Tucker eyed Danny nervously; the wound he had painstakingly stitched together hours earlier barely beginning to heal.

"Relax, it's dodge-ball day. I'll take the first ball thrown my way and take the laps at a crawl. Don't worry, it actually doesn't hurt that bad. The deep ones never do."

No, Tucker thought, they just kill you. This had been even worse than Pariah Dark. His best friend's life had been in Tucker's shaking hands, needle and thread. The hero depended on him and it was up to him to save his best friend, to hope his stitches were up to the task, to pray he hadn't accidentally left any arteries or veins bleeding as he sewed Danny up. His friend's chest was bound in pristine white, but how long before the red began to leak through?

"Just be careful," Tucker managed a shaky smile. "I don't wanna stitch your lazy ass up again."

"Hey, you okay?" Danny asked.

"It's nothing, a scratch," Tucker said.

"Now you're sounding like me." Danny quickly grabbed his long-sleeved gym shirt and phased it on, covering pristine bandages and old scars: horrific lightning-shaped scars from Vortex, deep gashes from claws, swords and spears, neat holes from bullets, teeth, arrows and lasers. The distorted, discolored flesh was testimony to a year of battles.

A year.

"Hey Tuck, it's been a year hasn't it," Danny said. A year since the Lunch Lady. A whole year. One little year. A span of time impossible to put into simple words. "Damn."

"Holy shit it has. Wow I was a fucking idiot a year ago."

"We were all little shits a year ago and I was the worst," Danny said, smirking. "It took me at least two months to grow some brains."

"Yeah. Hey we should celebrate. Cake and ice-cream and pizza and relaxing pig-out time," Tucker suggested.

"Sounds good. When was the last time we did something like that?" Danny tried to search his memories, but the last time they'd planned such a weekend Technus 2.0 had wrecked it thoroughly. That had been so long ago, and lately they'd been doing nothing but fighting ghosts. Of course more and more powerful ghosts came through as word of the ghost portal spread to the furthest reaches of the infinite realms. Things only got worse after the GIW blew up the Fenton Ghost Portal in the mistaken belief that they'd destroy the ghost zone.

This latest one had been a Grim Reaper figure.

"Too long," said Tucker. He carefully wriggled into his long-sleeved gym shirt, covering four nasty scars from a ghostly saber-toothed tiger. His wrist twitched slightly. "Kinda weird to pretend we're wimps though. Talk about irony, I dimly remember actually sucking at dodge-ball."

"I'd rather not let the whole school know anything else," Danny pointed out. "Or worse the world."

Tucker nodded, he had been fighting the anti-ecto act tooth and nail but a school president and host to some web sites hardly amounted to anything in reality. "We should ask Sam about the anniversary. Maybe she'll pay for everything."

"Hopefully. Come on, time to damn muscle memory telling us to dodge everything bright and green," said Danny as they stepped out to another ordinary gym class.


	6. Chapter 6

**Rise**

"Woah Danny where are you going in that?"

Jazz pointed to the hoodie that covered more than half her little brother's body—though little wasn't the right word anymore. He towered over her, having hit his growth spurt last year or maybe even earlier, without the decency to stop. Now Danny was well on his way to equaling their father. Hopefully his growth was well on its way to stopping.

"To school," Danny answered.

"It's August," Jazz pointed out.

"My ice core could keep me comfortable in hell," Danny argued.

"Yes well unless you want people to be really suspicious as to how you aren't dying in that, get something lighter."

Danny shifted awkwardly, "I um…can't."

"Why not? This doesn't have anything to do with…Phantom's shirt being blown off in the middle of that fire-fight?"

"No, it's because this is the only thing I own that can still make me look like a wimp and not…well…a superhero."

Jazz chuckled, "Finally got your wish huh?"

"Two years too late, when I really need to keep a lid on the whole superhero thing," Danny's voice dropped and he cast a quick, cautious glance to the typical white van parked not far from their house.

Jazz winced; the anti-ecto act had been hell for Danny, for all ghosts really. The Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act allowed the GIW to do their jobs and hunt ghosts. Not so bad. Then, after the former Fenton Portal's ecto-energy tore through two worlds, making random portals and releasing ghosts, it got worse. The Anti-Ecto Act was revised: new regulations, harsher punishments for ghosts that dared peek in the human world, automatic capture and vivisection for any who broke so much as a letter of any article. Worst was what article thirteen meant for Danny—he could be charged with 'impersonating a human,' one of the highest crimes according to the Act.

"No offense but you're not going to hide much even under that," she poked at a shoulder, "You've grown into this Danny and you can't pull off non-athletic anymore. Think up another cover story, preferably before your shoulders rip through this poor hoodie."

"Like what. It'll be suspicious if I just do a one-eighty when I've been the shitty loser for so long."

"It will be even more suspicious if you keep trying to hide what can't be hidden." Jasmine paused, "I've already had other girls come up to me and…uh ask about you…" Suddenly her face warred between green and white.

"Ask what about me? They don't…suspect?" Danny briefly froze.

"The only thing they suspect is that you've got a lot of muscle beneath the baggy clothes and they'd like a closer look." Jasmine shuddered, "Why they have to tell me that, there are some things sisters aren't meant to hear about brothers…and now they'll be saying the same things about Phantom." She shuddered and forcibly did not think about what the girls would say, "Anyway, with this family? It wouldn't be that weird for you to go ghost hunter. Mom and dad would cover for you."

Danny nodded, relaxing, "I'll think about it, but what reason would I have to hide that I'm a ghost hunter?"

Later, when he brought up the idea to his friends in school, Sam was onboard.

"Ghost hunting wouldn't be a shitty excuse, considering that it's what we do anyway. The best lies have a smidgeon of truth in them and this has nearly the whole thing."

"Yeah except ghost hunting is perfectly legal. What reason would I have to keep that secret? What we need is a good reason to make a secret out of ghost hunting and a good reason to come out," Danny said.

"—Of the closet," Tucker teased. He suddenly considered his own baggy clothes, which were getting snug, "and I'm gonna need a good reason too. People have been noticing, even if they don't say anything. Kwan hasn't so much as given me a nasty look, even with Dash around."

"So what's your excuse for keeping it secret?" asked Danny.

"Weeelllll," suddenly a grin appeared on his face, "I could just go with the truth! I've been working with Danny Phantom and didn't want to get in trouble for it."

"And get your ass in jail? That anti-ecto control act outlaws ghosts in all forms except hunting and experimenting," said Sam.

"No it doesn't!" said Tucker, "I've studied every word and I'm pretty certain…" He turned to his trusty PDA, "Hah! My ass is jail-free; they don't have a damn word against humans working with ghosts."

"Really, not even arresting human accomplices or anything? I would have sworn helping ghosts was one of the first things they'd make illegal," Danny asked.

"The GIW could arrest me if I shot at them for you," Tucker said, "but not for simply working with you. Kinda makes sense though, aside from you most people wouldn't give a shit what happens to ghosts. Politicians can make all the anti-ghost regulations they want—as long as they don't involve living humans, then things get pissy. People would bitch and moan forever if the GIW could arrest them, especially since they'd jail your entire phan club first."

"As arresting as that would be, it would get the GIW in prison themselves," Sam added.

"That's perfect then," said Danny.

"You better not mean that lousy pun," said Tucker.

"What's perfect? Our excuses yes but…" Sam trailed off. "You're going to say _you've_ been ghost hunting with Danny Phantom?"

"Covering a multitude of sins," Danny pointed out. "A good reason to keep my mouth shut, especially around my parents and their well-known 'rip apart molecule by molecule' policy toward Phantom. And if people notice how often Phantom and I are in the same area, they won't think anything of it because we're 'working together'."

"Could work, could make people suspicious as well, especially if you and Phantom aren't ever seen at the same time," warned Sam.

Two years ago Danny would have ignored that comment and stupidly jumped right in, but he couldn't afford a fuckup. Not when one little mistake could have him the property of the GIW to vivisect. Only the fact that no one knew there was a secret identity to look for kept him safe, and that was only safe as long as Fenton and Phantom couldn't possibly be the same person. "I'll discuss it with my family, you may be right but duplication should be able to help."


	7. Chapter 7

**Fall**

His attackers weren't ghosts. Danny had no warning to slip away from the gym crowd and switch to his alter ego. He barely had time to hear the assailant's presence before she was upon him.

Had anyone else been attacked, they could not have reacted fast enough. They would have been struck down before being able to draw breath. Even Sam and Tucker, even Jack and Maddie didn't get into the thick of fights as frequently or long as Danny. Nearly three years of ghost-fighting had endowed him with reflexes quick enough to drop into a crouch the second the weapon touched his hair. Shooting to his feet after it passed, Danny put all his momentum behind a strike that slammed into his attacker's stomach.

The GIW agent doubled up and fell limply to the ground.

For a brief moment he paid a scrap of attention to the crowd of innocents (witnesses) surrounding him, none of them having the time to react with anything more than gasps. Then he stepped into a second attacker (government agent), mindful of the press of people while gripping the Fenton Ghost-Collaring Pole and re-directing all the momentum behind it to the floor. The white-clad agent slammed into unforgiving gym mat. Wrenching the weapon out of its wielder's slackened grip, Danny drove the other end into a white-clothed ribcage, leapt over the fallen agent and met a third literally beating his way through the shocked crowd.

The GIW knew how to fight. Years had forced experience and skill into the notoriously bad ghost hunters, or culled them, but the surprise attacks, the stealth, the shock of having an opponent fighting back? These were still hunters.

Or it might have been that _Danny Fenton_ was fighting them.

His third opponent was pushed on the defensive immediately. The half-ghost pressed his attack, forcing agent C away from the crowd bunching toward the bleachers to watch. One second, that was all he needed to transform. One second out of sight. He directed the fight to the nearest door.

Danny ducked under another agent's strike—that would have clocked him over the head—and spiral-blocked his opponent, driving his pole deep into the agent's gut. They halted, hitting the door as other agents closed in but Danny smashed the lock with his weapon. The cheap pig-iron shutting the boy's locker room snapped and both tumbled into the emptiness and cover of darkness.

With barely a glance to ensure he was alone and the agent out cold, Danny activated his transformation rings. Now that agent C was down, it occurred to him that in ten seconds of fighting he had just thoroughly trashed his 'Danny Fenton: invisible loser' reputation.

And assaulted federal agents.

"Plan B then." Duplicating, Danny transformed his duplicate back into Fenton and tossed him the Ghost-Collar before the door burst open and agents poured in. Leaving the half-blind agents to his duplicate, who had reasonable night vision and no glowing eyes to give him away, Phantom phased out of the room and into the battle. An ecto-bubble caught another agent trying to arrest Tucker like a jarred lightning bug. A burst of ice encircled two more agents before Fenton re-joined the battle by hamstringing another agent with his own weapon—it wasn't meant to be used on that end.

If he was damned either way, he might as well do.

Duplicates worked seamlessly well together. A freshly made duplicate was little more than an extension of the original, like an extra limb. Weeks of separation could give a duplicate the independence of a twin brother or clone. For now though their coordination was impeccable: as though it had been honed by thousands of battles.

Sam and Tucker herded the rest of the students away from the attacking GIW, but otherwise kept wisely back. Tucker was already texting frantically as the dozens of invading agents were distracted fighting both Fenton and Phantom, giving them all a horrible sense of foreboding. As incompetent as they were, the GIW had never dared move so boldly as to attack students. Non-team Phantom teens saw Danny Phantom had things well in hand and took out their phones to record not only the latest of the ghost-hero's battles, but the shocking inclusion of Danny Fenton.

Fenton leapt over an unknown ray, curling into a roll before rising again to his feet, staff slashing upward; his movements stunningly graceful for a boy who stumbled through gym. The agent couldn't leap away in time to keep the staff from smashing her right between the legs. This was only slightly less painful for her than if she'd been male. Another agent fired at Danny, who dodged hastily, giving the woman time to recover. Still conscious, she stumbled forward—and was promptly hit by an unknown laser, expertly deflected from one agent to her by Phantom. Already Fenton was closing in on another agent; one of the last agents.

Once the last had been iced in a frozen jail, Phantom left through the ceiling, turned invisible and around to re-merge with his duplicate. Sam beat the rushing crowd of awed students to him.

"Danny?" Though Sam only said one word, an entire question was in the mention of his name: How are we going to play this?

"You're under arrest," a new GIW agent barked. He burst in with half the GIW for backup.

"For what?" Sam demanded.

"A ghost impersonating a human." The GIW agent pointed to Danny, whose shirt was hanging open, sliced by an errant blast in the battle, his unique pattern of scars bared for all to see.

Scars that perfectly matched Phantom's.


	8. Chapter 8

**Choice**

Danny haunted his room like a criminal his cell. What he wouldn't give for the simple black and white life-or-death fights he normally dealt with, or even one of Vlad's plots. Introspection was a slow-devouring bitch. At the core of this mental conflict was a simple decision. The hardest choice he ever had to make: harder than risking his life had ever been.

Flee or surrender?

Should he flee and keep the tattered remnants of his freedom as a runaway, at liberty to save people and ghosts alike so long as he could out-fly the GIW? Could he live the rest of his life as he had during those few days Freakshow had the Reality Gauntlet?

Could he put his faith in humanity, in people willing to believe the worst in him and hunt him down for vivisection, and risk making a lab his permanent home? Was it possible to come out of a trial with his full rights and rights for all ghosts?—Well, maybe not all ghosts. Could the law condemning ectoplasmic entities ever be so just?

Being an outlaw safe from the scalpels and guns so long as he could keep one step ahead of them had been his life since the accident. Now he would have to do it without the safe haven of a secret identity. But could he willingly step into his worst nightmare—well, not his worst now that his parents knew—by surrendering himself with only faith in the innate goodness of humanity?

The whole world's fate rested with his decision; what he chose meant the difference between being able to save everyone from the next global catastrophe or being imprisoned and forced to watch.

"So, what are you going to do?" Sam asked.

Hardly surprised to see Sam or everyone following her, Danny deflected the question. "How's it looking out there?"

"Dude I don't know enough curses to describe how it looks out there. The world's flipping out. Reporters are swarming everyone. They'd be up here in your face if all the politicians weren't bitching about whether you belong in a lab or on trial or in the army. People were rioting here 'till your parents figured out how to turn the ghost shield into a human shield."

Danny gave him a confused look.

"You didn't hear that? Feel them pounding on your door through the floor? Damn you've been out of it."

"Had a lot on my mind," Danny said quietly.

"You'll do the right thing," Sam reassured him. "You've got time to think about it. The GIW couldn't make it here anyway. About half your fan club is rioting at their headquarters. The rest at town hall, at legislative offices. Some people at the nearest stores just to riot and steal stuff." Purple lips curled in disgust.

"I should be helping."

"Hold it Lone Ranger." Sam grabbed his arm. "The police can handle this for once, that's what they're for and rioters aren't ghosts."

"No pressure, whatever you decide, we've got plans for it," Jazz encouraged.

"Yup, I've already got a series of pit-stops we can make like an underground flyway and I've upgraded the Fenton Jet and this is a map of all GIW headquarters, even the secret ones," Tucker said.

"You messed with the Fenton Jet?" both Fenton parents complained simultaneously.

"You want me to run away?" Danny asked.

"Your decision dude, I'm just saying if the GIW gets their hands on you all my natural talent and skill at sewing and practice putting you back together won't be worth a damn."

"But if you decide to stand your ground, we'll stand right beside you Danno." Jack clasped his son's shoulder, pleased they could see eye to eye now.

"During the battle Tucker also texted that army of lawyers I hired just in case," Sam reported. "You've got the best of the law on your side, ready to argue for your rights until doomsday."

"Bribery Sam?"

"Actually every single one is doing this pro-bono. Really they make even me question whether lawyers are the cesspit of humanity."

"Thought that was politicians," Tucker teased.

"You're going over to the dark side!" Danny said in his spookiest voice.

How could he choose, when a wrong choice would doom this precious family? Damn it, if the majority of people wanted him to be a lab rat, maybe they didn't deserve to be saved. Screw them all and keep his loved ones safe. But how could he think that? His own parents had once condemned 'Danny Phantom' but that didn't make them less worthy of being saved.

"I couldn't be prouder of what you've done and whatever you decide I'll be just as proud and help you _every_ way I can," his mother said.

"Heroes do stupid things," Danny warned. A thought occurred to him and he scrutenized the people he would die for. "You guys aren't planning on doing anything stupid, are you?"

"No more stupid than you," Sam countered.

"That's also what being a hero is, doing the stupid thing everyone else is too scared to do," his father added.

Jazz stepped up next to him. "I know you'll make the right choice brother. You've become a hero, better than I ever could have hoped and heroes do what's right, no matter how murky or conflicted the decision may look." Unable to give him a peck on the head like she used to, Jazz settled for a hand on his other shoulder.

"Yeah, it is what heroes do." Danny knew the right decision to make: the one he was most afraid of.

Above the Mayor's office—ironically Vlad's predecessor—Danny Phantom swooped to the ground. He landed lightly, arms held out for cuffs as he held them out to Valerie so long ago, because his word was his bond.

"I surrender."


	9. Chapter 9

**Judgment**

Judge Lyon settled the packed courtroom—the trial a compromise between Danny flying free or living in a lab—and took his seat. "Now, who will speak for Mr. Daniel Fenton?"

"I will." Danny wouldn't be a bystander.

Several people gave him odd looks, though the prosecutor smirked. "The law is very clear in this case," he said. "What we have is unquestioningly a ghost pretending to be a human, a federal offense and the highest crime capable of being committed by an ectoplasmic entity."

Even higher than murder, Danny thought, but didn't say that aloud. A court room wasn't the place for witty banter. Time to put the lawyers' coaching to good use.

"All these rules were written for full ghosts. By my very nature I am still alive and if living beings also fall under these dictatorial rules then we're all guilty of breaking the Anti-Ecto Act."

"And are we to take the word of a ghost?" The prosecutor argued.

"No more so than a lawyer's word." That got some snickers. "With your permission your honor, I would like to call my first witness."

The Judge gave it and Danny called his parents to the stand. If anyone could offer proof that he was alive and get him out of this, the world-renowned ectologists could. If anyone could blow this to hell, the world's most embarrassing parents could.

"For the court, what is your official profession?"

"Ectologist, a researcher of ectoplasmic entities." It hurt to hear his dad speak so solemnly, but Danny still relaxed.

"How long have you studied ectoplasmic entities?"

"Twenty-nine years."

"And how long have you studied the ectoplasmic entity known as Danny Phantom." Wow, what a weird sentence to say.

"Exactly two years and forty seven days."

"Please state the conclusions of your research."

"Danny Phantom, aka Daniel Fenton is unquestioningly alive."

"Objection! The witness is related to the defendant!"

"Objection noted, proceed," Judge Lyon announced.

"No more questions."

His dad hadn't bungled things up, but Danny knew not to relax until the prosecution was through.

"Remembering that you are under oath, were you not quoted saying that all ghosts were innately evil and that Danny Phantom was a menace to society merely pretending to be a hero."

"We were wrong," his dad said simply.

"Regardless, you were—"

"Why are you doing this?" his dad interrupted, no longer professional. He turned desperately to Judge Lyon, "Please, don't force me to testify against my own son. I've hurt him enough—."

"Mr. Fenton you are out of order. Cease." the Judge said.

"If I may call upon my second witness," Danny interrupted.

"She is also related to him and will only parrot her husband," the prosecutor argued.

"This trial must not be rushed. Proceed," Judge Lyon decided.

His mom's words were even more practiced than his dad's but the prosecutor wasn't about to let their testimony lie.

"Mr. Fenton has said for the record that he was wrong? Does that mean you too were wrong in your previous conclusions about the ectoplasmic entity Danny Phantom?"

Danny could smell a trap.

"Yes."

"Does this mean that the majority of your expertise and research was faulty for over two decades?" the prosecutor asked pointedly.

" _All_ current ectoplasmic entity law is based on erroneous assumptions from biased researchers."

The prosecutor pointedly switched to another witness.

"Now Dash, please tell us in your own words about Mr. Danny Fenton's attack on you."

"He didn't!" Dash blurted out.

"Remember you're under oath now. We have no less than fifty-three reports detailing Mr. Daniel Fenton's assaults over the years," the Prosecutor warned.

"I lied! I lied in every stupid reports okay. He didn't attack me, never did because I was the bully!" Dash argued heatedly. "I wailed on gee—people for kicks because I'm that kind of shit-head and if I had ghost powers I'd be wailing on all of you, not saving your ungrateful asses a hundred times over."

"Objection! Out of order!"

Danny concealed a smirk. This wasn't victory, but it had been nice to hear.

"If you lied, why confess now?"

Brash bravery gone, Dash muttered, "I never met any of this to happen. It was just a bit of fun…and I lied to keep from getting in trouble." He scoffed, "But lying here will get me jailed!"

"What made these reports stop?" the prosecutor asked.

Dash wallowed in misery. "Danny…defended himself."

"So Mr. Daniel Fenton did assault you."

"It was self defense only!"

"The report submitted on August 23rd of 2005, the last report, specifically states that Mr. Daniel Fenton seized your arm."

"After I tried to punch him and he only did some kind of cool lock to keep me from punching again."

"So he did seize you."

"I deserved a lot worse than a grab!"

"No more questions your honor." The persecutor was barely suppressing a smirk toward Danny. For a human the testimony was concerning, for a ghost it was damning.

"Would you like to cross-examine the witness?" the Judge asked Danny.

"No thank you, your honor. And thank you Dash; that must have taken a lot of courage to admit."

The prosecutor called up GIW agents who participated in the attack. "Did you have prior evidence that Danny Phantom was disguised as the seemingly harmless student Daniel Fenton?"

"Yes," lead agent answered.

"And in your expertise is Danny Phantom a dangerous ghost that needs to be restrained for the good of humanity."

"Yes. Especially given the violence attacks against us."

"No more questions."

Danny's cross-examination began. "Did you assault the rest of the student body during your attempt to capture me?" Failed attempt, considering he'd been able to fly back home, but he kept silent on that.

"Yes," the agent growled through gritted teeth.

"Objection!"

The prosecutor called up the Mayor, who glared at Danny with thankfully brown eyes, though how an overshadowing could worsen things, Danny had no idea.

"Now, on October 20th 2004, you were taken hostage."

"I do not know."

Both Danny and the prosecutor had matching looks of shock on their faces. "What?" the Prosecutor blurted.

"I remember nothing after nominating Maddie Fenton head of security until the next morning."

The chief of police was called to witness. "Was it not Mr. Daniel Fenton who was captured on First National Bank security camera leading numerous ghosts to rob it?"

"It was Mr. Frederick Showenhower who was convicted of these crimes."

"Then by all means, let us call upon Mr. Showenhower to testify his own guilt," said the prosecutor.

"Mr. Showenhower was last released into GIW custody."

"No more questions."

"Would you like to cross-examine the witness Mr. Fenton?" the Judge asked.

"Who, in your professional estimation, was responsible for all the robberies?" Danny asked.

"Mr. Showenhower."

"Thank you sir and thank you, your honor. No more questions."

Finally the prosecution gave his finishing statement.

"In closing I move to uphold the Anti-Ecto Control Act, which was written to protect the American people. Testimony from local and federal law enforcement proves, at best, Danny Phantom is a reckless teenage ghost willing to use his powers for whatever reason strikes his fancy to garner what teens always want: fame and fortune. Most likely we have a manipulative ghost, cunning enough to emotionally exploit even the most brilliant among us to believe the lie that he is alive, who is only waiting for the right time to betray us. My hope is that the jury will stop this scheme before it becomes a tragedy."

Danny Fenton stood up.

"Making the right decision isn't always easy. In fact it never is." He smiled at agents, jurors, judge and so many others he had risked his life, his friends, his freedom for. He could risk a little more. "But whatever you decide, you'll make the right choice. Thank you."

The jurors debated, and Danny had to fight the urge to use his ghostly powers to listen in; he had sworn not to abuse his powers like Vlad. Occasionally he could hear a shouted phrase through the wall or whispers from friends and family, but as hours passed, tense uncertainty gave way to stoic patience, then boredom.

Finally, the jury stepped out. Twelve men and women from Amity Park that Danny didn't recognize, which meant they hadn't attacked him but he hadn't saved them personally either.

"We have reached a verdict based on the testimonies of Dr. Maddie Fenton and Dr. Jack Fenton regarding the state of life of one Mr. Daniel Fenton, also taking into consideration the testimony of Mr. Dash Fenton, the Mayor and all law enforcement."

Here the lead juror acknowledged both the police chief and the GIW. Team Phantom tensed.

"Owing to the truly extraordinary circumstances of the accusation and accused, we have taken all hours and pains to properly deliberate this matter and we must regrettably—"

Several agents slid their hands toward their side-pockets.

"—disregard the Mayor's input, due to possible overshadowing. Also unfortunate is the absence of the convict Mr. Showenhower and the brash testimony of Mr. Baxter proves only his own word is truth."

All Danny's friends and family slipped hands near inconspicuous bulges. What were they planning?

"The charge brought forth against Mr. Daniel Fenton was 'impersonating a human,' defined as by which a dead ectoplasmic entity takes living form and function. It is the decision of this jury that with regards to Mr. Daniel Fenton's state of living—"

Even the bystanders stopped breathing.

"—there is insufficient evidence to declare him dead. As such he cannot be charged under any article of the Anti-Ecto Control Act and in conclusion is—."

"Have you idiots not seen him flying around, shooting ecto-blasts!" shouted the prosecutor.

"—not guilty."

AN: Thank you all for your support, especially everyone who left reviews. Your compliments and suggestions inspired a far better story than the one I started with!


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